A/N: Trigger warning for graphic descriptions of violence and an inkling of suicidal thoughts in this chapter
Harry felt his wrist tingle, but he paid it no mind as he walked back toward Ron and Hermione and Luna. He had more important things to focus on than whatever his mystery boy was trying to tell him. So instead of reading the message, Harry absently tapped his wrist without looking at it to make the message disappear. He'd read it later.
Once he reached his friends, he plopped down on the sofa beside Luna and put his head in his hands.
"How'd it go?" Luna asked him delicately.
Hearing Malfoy tell him he loved him was a huge shock, because he hadn't known if it was true when Luna said it.
"You were right," Harry said hoarsely. "He loves me."
Luna merely nodded. "What did you tell him?"
"That I needed time," said Harry. "This . . . It's all too much."
"Take all the time you need, Harry," said Hermione gently. "No one's forcing you to be with him."
"We kissed," Harry blurted out.
Ron gasped.
Luna looked pleased.
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth in shock.
"You what?" Ron exclaimed.
"It wasn't much," Harry admitted. "There was no tongue or anything. But we still kissed. Twice."
As he reflected back on the series of events leading up to the kiss, he groaned and put his head in his hands. As he recalled, he'd complimented Malfoy's looks. Why had he done that?
"Harry?" Hermione prompted.
"I dunno what came over me," Harry confessed. "He just looked so sad, and I wanted to show him that I wasn't repulsed by the idea of being his soulmate."
"So you kissed him," Ron clarified.
"Harry, there are other ways to show him you aren't repulsed that don't involve confusing him," said Ron. "Now he thinks you like him."
"Maybe I don't know how I feel!" exclaimed Harry. "This is a lot to take in for a bloke who, until yesterday, didn't even think he liked other blokes."
Luna brightened like the sun. "You like him, don't you, Harry?"
"N-No-"
"Of course you do. That's why you kissed him."
"Just because I kissed him doesn't mean-"
"Actually, that's exactly what it means," said Ron, and he didn't sound too happy.
"Again, Harry, no one's forcing you to be with him," said Hermione, shooting Luna a warning glare.
"I'm not forcing you," said Luna. "I just recognize signs of attraction, and I see them in you."
Harry had to stop and think. Was he attracted to Malfoy?
He thought about those lovely, stormy eyes that had hues of silver when they hit the light. He thought about that golden blonde hair that fell over his ears, overgrown and in need of a trim. He thought about that pale, milky skin and how wonderful, how smooth it would feel to run his hands over it, and . . .
Shit.
He was attracted to Malfoy.
Luna beamed at the instant of Harry's realization. "You are attracted to him!"
"Could you be any louder?" Harry hissed.
"I'm sorry, I'm just so excited. You two are soulmates, and I think you'd go perfectly together."
"This doesn't change anything," said Harry. "Just because I'm . . . attracted to him doesn't mean I want to be with him. He's got an awful personality."
"You don't know him," said Luna.
Harry scoffed. "And you do?"
"I may not know him well, but I know him enough. And that boy is good."
Harry was unnerved. That was exactly what Pansy had said.
"People keep saying that," he said, "and I don't think it's true."
Luna looked dejected. "I already told you how he helped me during the war. And I can sense when someone is feeling remorseful or guilty. It's all over him, guys. It's eating him alive."
"That's his problem," Harry said.
Luna frowned. "Can't you show at least a little compassion?"
"Compassion?" echoed Ron incredulously. "Compassion for the bloke who maimed my brother? You want me to show compassion?"
"He didn't mean to, Ron," said Luna. "You don't know the pressures he was under from Voldemort. He had no choice. It was either that or his family died. Would you have chosen to protect everyone else, or your family?"
Ron looked stumped.
Hermione sighed.
Harry, for one, was angry. "He could've fought back. He could've done something."
"He was powerless," said Luna. "You don't know what was going on inside that manor. Voldemort was going in his head every single day, prying him apart for information on you. And as for releasing Death Eaters into the school, I'm sure he feels really badly about it-"
"Oh, pardon me!" exclaimed Ron. "That must mean we can forgive him, because he feels really badly about it."
Luna frowned at him. "You don't know what you're talking about with Draco. He's deeply hurt by what he did, and he regrets it. All of it. I see the colors of his aura shifting, I see the deep, deep blue that means he is very sad. And most of all, I see him fading away."
Harry wanted to tell her that he also saw the fading away, and it concerned him greatly, as much as he wanted to deny it. There was no use. He was concerned for the blonde-haired git, and he couldn't hide it anymore.
"I'm worried about him," said Harry. "I'm actually really fucking worried."
"So am I," said Luna softly. "But unless you tell him he's forgiven, there isn't a whole lot we can do."
"You're not seriously going to-"
"Oh, Ronald, you need to let it go already!" exclaimed Hermione, rounding on her boyfriend. "Malfoy may not be my favourite person, he may not be anyone's favourite person, but he still deserves a second chance if he feels sorry for his actions. And I'm beginning to realize that his actions in the war weren't even his fault to begin with."
"Fine," said Ron, tone clipped. "Have it your way. You're wrong about him, and you'll eventually realize that, but have it your way."
"Stop acting like a child," Hermione scolded. "Harry's his soulmate, and he deserves to make nice with Malfoy if that's what he wants to do."
Did Harry want to make nice with Malfoy? Like, actually become his friend and see how things progressed naturally? Harry was worried he wouldn't be able to be friends with Malfoy knowing that the bloke loved him. It was too much to take in.
"I dunno if I can be his friend," Harry told them honestly. "He loves me. How can I be his friend knowing that all he wants to do is kiss me, and hold me, and . . ."
The more Harry thought about it, the less revolting it sounded. Being held and kissed by Malfoy almost sounded . . . Nice.
But he wouldn't dare admit that aloud. Not a chance.
"Did Draco tell you that he wants to be friends?" Luna asked.
Harry shook his head. "I think he wants me any way he can have me."
"That's not creepy at all," Ron muttered.
"Right now, Draco needs to know he's forgiven," said Luna. "That's all he wants."
"And why should I forgive him?" Harry asked. "He committed horrible atrocities in the war. He boasted about his Death Eater status to anyone who would listen. He spent seven years making my life a living hell. Why should I?"
Though deep down, Harry knew Malfoy had no choice in committing those atrocities. He knew he only bragged about his Death Eater status for attention because he was starved for it at home, and the only reason he made Harry's life a living hell was because he was angry that Harry had rejected him on the train.
"That's up to you, Harry," Luna said softly. "You get the choice in deciding whether you think he's worth it."
Harry decided it was time to check his message. Lightly tapping his right wrist, he waited for the ink to appear on his skin.
I'm ready to tell you who I am.
He gasped softly.
"What is it?" Hermione asked.
"It's the messenger boy," Harry said. "He wants to show me who he is."
Draco waited and waited and waited for a response. He kept scratching his wrist, hoping that the action could stimulate some kind of reaction.
He got nothing.
While Pansy and Blaise were doing homework, Draco was drifting off, unable to focus. He'd been having a lot of trouble focusing these days, it felt like. His concentration problems had been going on for what felt like years.
Finally, finally, when he thought it would never happen, his wrist tingled.
Are you now?
Yes.
Meet me tonight, at the Astronomy Tower, at 11:00.
Draco willed his hands to stay still as he returned to his homework, though he was fooling himself if he thought he was going to get anything done.
Waiting for 11:00 felt like an eternity to Draco. When the time finally rolled around, he slipped out of bed. Curiously, Potter hadn't come back to their room at all this evening.
No matter. Draco would soon show him that he was the one who'd been anonymously messaging Potter this entire time, that Potter had nothing to worry about, that it was just him. He headed off for the Astronomy tower.
When he arrived, he found Potter already waiting for him. His eyes hardened when they landed on Draco, which only hurt a little bit.
"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"
Draco had been so ready to show Potter who he really was, so sure. But now . . .
Little tremors ran through his body as he swallowed thickly. He couldn't do this. What was he thinking?
"Malfoy?"
Did- Did Potter sound concerned?
"I-I'm just getting air," Draco managed to get out, and he was such a fucking coward.
Potter raised a brow.
"You alright?"
"Y-Yes, I'm fine."
"Well, you can stay up here if you want to, but I should let you know I'm meeting someone," Potter said.
It was time for Draco to be brave.
"I know," he said quietly.
Potter's gaze hardened into something unfriendly and defensive. "What do you mean, you know?"
Draco willed the single word to be sent to Potter's wrist.
Hi.
Potter checked his wrist, looked at Draco, then back down to his wrist, then back up at Draco. His face paled several shades.
"Malfoy . . ."
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," Draco gushed out. "But I wanted to be your friend, and this was the only way we could talk without . . . Without-"
"You manipulated me." Harry enunciated the word with a growl, stepping closer to Draco who did his best not to cower away in fear.
"What?"
"You . . . You sick freak. You twisted my mind, making me like you. All those things I said about you, and you were just . . . Puppeteering my head, organizing my thoughts so that they'd all point in favor of you."
Draco's blood ran cold. Was that how Potter saw it?
"N-No, that's not it at all-"
"And don't even get me started on that pathetic excuse of flirting. What was that?" Potter exclaimed, raking a hand through his unruly hair. "How old are you, twelve?"
Hurt bubbled in Draco's chest, white-hot and all-consuming. He struggled to breathe.
"I can't believe you did this, Malfoy. Actually, you know what? I fucking can. Because it makes sense. It makes perfect sense. All you ever are is a coward, all you ever will be is a coward. Hiding behind a wrist instead of just fucking talking to me like a normal person. You are unbelievable. What did I do to you to deserve this treatment, huh?"
Another step closer.
"What did I honestly do? Is it because I rejected you on the train? Well, too fucking bad. You insulted my best friend, and even worse, you manipulated me there, too, by telling me I was incapable of deciding who was a good enough person to let into my life! All you do is weasel your way into things and manipulate, manipulate, manipulate. You're . . . You know what? You're worse than Voldemort, Malfoy. At least he was direct about what he was doing."
Draco was ready to cry. He didn't mean that. He didn't mean that. He was only saying that because he was angry, and rightfully so, because Draco had waited too long to reveal his identity, but he hadn't meant to manipulate him, he really, really hadn't . . .
"Was this all just some big, elaborate scheme to humiliate me? Are you really that bored with your life?" Potter exclaimed, coming closer still. "Don't you have anything better to do, Malfoy? Oh, wait. That's right. You don't. Because you center your whole life around me, because you're obsessed with me, because you're in love with me. Well, wanna know how I feel about that?"
He took another step closer.
"I don't give a fuck. You mean nothing to me, Draco Malfoy. Nothing. So you can take your 'I love you' and shove it right up your-"
"Stop!" Draco shouted, eyes welling up with tears. "Stop."
"You think by feeling sorry for yourself you can get everyone to forgive you?" Potter asked. "Well, guess what? They don't. We don't. We never will. You don't deserve forgiveness, Malfoy. You don't deserve anything."
Draco took a step back, but Potter followed.
"You actually had me talking to my friends about you, saying I liked the kiss. Do you understand how embarrassing that was for me to say? And now I know it was all a lie. All you want is to have your dirty way with the hero, just like everybody else-"
"That's not how I feel at all!" Draco bellowed. "If you'll just listen-"
"No, you've said enough," growled Potter. "It's my turn to talk. I swear to God, Malfoy, if you ever come near me or my friends again, I'll make Voldemort's curses feel like a warm summer breeze."
Draco's lip wobbled. Do not cry, do not cry-
"Aww, are you going to cry, Malfoy? Did I hurt your precious feelings?" Potter mocked, balling his hands into fists.
Anger welled up in Draco, blindingly fast and overpowering him. He took a step closer to Potter. "I said stop."
"Make me."
Draco slapped him across the face.
Reeling back, Potter's eyes blazed with fiery anger as he cradled his cheek. "What the . . . What the fuck was that?"
Draco walked closer to him, anger surging in his stomach. "Shut the fuck up, Potter."
Potter released an animalistic growl and ran forward at Draco, and before Draco could react he was being spelled down to the ground, hard.
He landed on the stony tile, elbows taking the brunt of the fall. However, since the inertia was so forceful, his head still whipped back and slammed down on the tile with a loud thud.
Dizzy, he lifted an arm to touch his head, but found his movements to be slow, sluggish. Had he hit his head really hard?
"Shit, Malfoy, I didn't get you that bad, can you please just get the fuck up already?" came Potter's impatient voice, though it sounded far away. Draco much preferred to lie here, unmoving. He had a feeling any movement would greatly hurt his head.
"Malfoy?"
"Mmmfh . . ."
Potter was suddenly standing over him, and his face was a confounding cocktail of anger and concern. "Malfoy, get up. Please."
Draco attempted to stand up, and he was mostly successful, except under Potter's pressure he moved too quickly and the rapid change of elevation sent him into another dizzy spell. He wobbled on his feet, and to his surprise Potter actually caught him.
"Here, let's . . . Let's sit down, yeah?"
Why was Potter being nice to him when minutes ago he was hexing him and yelling at him? His hurtful words floated through Draco's mind, one by one.
He let Potter lead him over to a small bench, and the two boys sat down with their thighs touching. Draco, hyper-aware of the contact, tried to keep his breathing even.
"There. Is that better?" Potter's surprisingly gentle voice startled him out of his trance.
"Yeah. I just . . . I just need a minute."
"Okay."
They sat together, with the only sound being their breaths filling the air around them. Eventually, Potter cleared his throat.
"We have to talk about this, Malfoy."
"We talked about it plenty," Draco responded flatly.
"Why did you do it?" Potter asked him, looking into his eyes.
"B-Because I . . . I didn't know how to talk to you. I wanted to . . . Connect with you, without facing rejection again."
"Then what was that truce about?" Potter asked.
Draco sighed. "I realized about halfway through that I was being an idiot, but we were already in too deep. A part of it was a comfort thing. Talking to you through the messaging system was . . . It was nice."
"That doesn't make it fucking okay."
"I know."
"And you know because you manipulated me so thoroughly, nothing can ever happen between us again."
"I didn't mean-"
"You knew exactly what you were doing," growled Potter. "You were trying to get me to fall in love with you, so that when you finally revealed yourself I'd swoon at your feet and sweep you off yours. You wanted my validation, my forgiveness, my obsession-"
"I only wanted your friendship," Draco said. "I never once asked or expected for more."
"Liar," Potter hissed. "You twisted my head and made me sympathize with you for all the horrible things you did in the war. Do you remember that you tortured people, that you let Death Eaters in here, that you joined his ranks? Do you remember any of that? Because at your core, beneath all this utter nonsense about forgiveness and redemption, that is who you are."
That was the moment Draco's heart snapped in two. Because after everything, Potter still saw him as a monster. Potter would never, ever forgive him.
"I'll just go," Draco said, standing up, fighting off a wave of dizziness.
"I think that'd be best," said Potter.
Hanging his head, Draco walked away from Potter and began his descent down the Astronomy tower.
When he was almost back to the common room, he ran into three figures. Two he recognized; they were the boys who had shoved him down and ruined his Transfigurations essay at the beginning of term. The other one, taller than the rest, he had never seen before.
"Well, well, well," leered the tall one. "Look who it is. If it isn't the little Death Eater."
Draco remembered that Potter saw him this way, saw him as the monster he'd always seen himself as. And he accepted the words without fight.
"If you'll just let me through-"
"Oho, I don't think so," said another bloke. "We've got unfinished business."
He pulled a knife from the pocket of his robes, twirling it around.
Draco's heart stuttered in his ribcage before coming to a complete stop. His breathing picked up.
"Last time, Potter stopped us before we could properly put you in your place," he murmured, continuing to twirl the knife. "So we decided to kick it up a notch."
Draco instinctively began backing away. The boys followed him, laughing.
"You can't run away now, Death Eater."
"Daddy isn't here to save you anymore."
"My sister died in the war, because of you."
That was it. Draco took off sprinting.
Three pairs of footsteps pounded behind him, but he was faster. He made turn after turn, surely getting himself lost but none of that mattered right now- there were people after him with a knife.
Suddenly, he felt the impact of a wordless spell hit his back, and he went crashing to the ground. He braced his arms around his head to protect it from the fall, but it didn't help matters any.
On the ground, dizzy, attempting to sit up, the boys surrounded him and grabbed him. The one with the knife held it up in front of him, and its metallic point flickered in the dimmed light from the oil lanterns. Draco trembled, as terror crawled through him.
"Please," he said. "Please let me go. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Aww," crooned the knife guy, turning to look at his friend. "He's sorry!"
All three boys bursted into laughter.
"You don't want to do this," Draco said, writhing and twisting in their grip. He was scared, and all alone, and Potter hated him, and he deserved this, he deserved every minute-
"Oh, I'm pretty sure we do," chided the knife guy. Then he turned his attention to the other boys. "Hold him still."
This only made Draco struggle more. "Stop, please stop," he pleaded, feeling an onset of fresh tears in his eyes.
"Don't cry," knife guy soothed mockingly, kneeling down over Draco and holding the knife up. "This will all be over soon, I promise."
Draco began rapidly shaking his head back and forth as his heart pounded away and his survival instincts kicked in. "No, no, no-"
"I said hold him still!"
As he spoke, the boy plunged the knife deep into Draco's right arm, twisting and turning.
Searing hot pain flared through him, and he screamed. One boy put a hand around his mouth as more muffled screams fought to escape him.
"There, there, it's okay, see that wasn't so bad, now was it?"
Tears flooded down Draco's face, which was scrunched up in blinding agony. His arm throbbed, and when the boy pulled the knife out it hurt even more.
"P-Please stop," he begged. "I'll do whatever you want, please, just stop."
"That's a pretty tall order for someone who doesn't have a whole lot to offer," said one of the guys holding him down. Then he was pressing his thumb into the open wound, and Draco was wailing and thrashing.
Then the thumb was gone, and he had a millisecond of relief, only a millisecond, before the knife was being plunged into his left arm in the exact same place, just above the midpoint.
Draco cried out again hoarsely, sobbing incoherently. The hand was back over his mouth, and he let out a muffled scream as the knife twisted and turned before it was pulled out of his arm. He could feel himself growing faint from the blood loss, it was gushing everywhere, he was sure of it, how else could he be growing dizzier by the second? The very smell of it was making him sick.
"S-Stop, I c-can't-"
"We're only halfway done, surely you can hold on a little bit longer for me?"
And no, Draco's blood froze over once again. He couldn't take another second of this. His arms were throbbing and oozing, and he was shaking head to toe. Weak and dizzy, he collapsed into the grip of his captors and let his head fall back.
"That's better, don't fight it, you deserve this, remember? You deserve every second."
Draco found himself nodding along to the words as he felt the knife pierce him again, this time in his thigh. The hand tightened over his mouth as he let out muffled screams and cries and sobs. The pain was blindingly all-consuming, it was everywhere, all around him. His injuries throbbed and throbbed and throbbed.
"There, there, it's okay," the knife guy said as he wrenched the knife free. "We're almost done. But hold on, okay? This last one's gonna be a bit rougher."
Draco shook his head rapidly back and forth, as blood rushed from his leg.
"Mm-Mm, mm-mm-"
"Shhh. This is what you deserve. This is what happens when you put other people in pain. That pain comes back around."
And the knife pierced Draco's other leg with such vigorous fervor that black spots danced across his vision. He sobbed into the hand that was muffling him, and the pain wrapped its thick tendrils around his leg and sank in deep. The knife twisted and tore at the battered flesh, and it was everything Draco could do not to pass out. He couldn't show more weakness. He had to stay awake.
"You." Twist. "Deserve." Twist. "All." Twist. "Of." Twist. "This."
Draco arched his back in white-hot agony. It had to stop. It needed to stop. He couldn't take it, he couldn't take it-
His vision began to blacken. His eyes blinked heavily.
"Hey, I think he's passing out," someone said, but the voice sounded as if it were underwater.
"Shit. Grab the knife, grab the knife."
The knife was wrenched out of his skin, and it hurt even more than when it had gone in. Draco pulled his knees to his chest and let another scream tear through his battered, broken body. The hand moved away from his mouth, and footsteps pattered away into the night.
Draco remained put, letting the pain overcome him at last as he accepted his fate that maybe he would bleed out here on the floor, and that would be okay.